Her boss, Max, was standing in the same place he had been when she had last left the office, leaning over some page proofs, his hand placed heavily on the table, taking the brunt of his weight. She took a deep breath and walked through the doors. Couriers, porters, security guards, receptionists fielding calls, visitors, disgruntled conspiracy theorists, electronic passes swiping and unlocking security doors, turnstiles clicking, the sound of keyboards and people shouting into phones. Adelaide had forgotten the speed and the noise of the place. THE elevator doors opened onto The New York Times newsroom. When I was writing this chapter I kept thinking about this Instagram phrase as it seemed to capture the impossible demands of having it all: ‘We expect women to work like they don’t have children and to raise children as if they don’t work’. But she keeps saying yes to every request her boss makes because if she keeps saying yes, she tells herself, he can’t accuse her of not being up to the job. The pressure and adrenaline that Adelaide once thrived on has transformed into toxic stress.Īfter her first day back at work she doesn’t know how she will ever keep up with the twin demands of her job and being a mother. Since having a baby her life has been turned upside down, but she has to pretend that it hasn’t, has to carry on as if everything is normal, has to somehow find a way of doing all of the work she used to do as well as figuring out how to take care of her baby.
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